Unchanging As The Sea
by GryffindorGoddess06
Summary: What if Raoul wasn't the innocent Vicomte in love? What if Erik wasn't the cruel murderer beneath the Opera? What if Christine wasn't foolish and selfish, but poisoned?


Disclaimer: This is based on the play version of POTO, and, quite unfortunately, doesn't belong to me. You know know how it would have ended if it did, though…Anyway, on with the story:

The Vicomte de Changy entered the dingy apothecary, looking around in disgust. Upon hearing the bell ring above the door, a stout man appeared and bowed low.

"I need more of that potion at once," Raoul ordered briskly.

"Yes, of course, monsieur. I'll have it ready for you in three days," the apothecary agreed.

"Now," the Vicomte practically growled

"Monsieur, that is not possible," the man argued, although with a hint of fear in his voice.

"I'll pay triple." Raoul glared at him.

"Well, then, perhaps by tomorrow morning," the man said thoughtfully.

That wouldn't do, Raoul thought. The performance was later in the evening. "Tonight." 

"That would cost an awful lot, monsieur."

"Price is of no object."

The man nodded once, and whispered. "I shall have it sent to the usual location at 5 o'clock?"

Raoul inclined his head briefly, swiveled on his heel, and stalked out of the small shop. He'd give the potion to Christine before the performance, and then it was just a matter of time before… He allowed himself a small smile of victory before he returned to the Opera house. Tonight…

Raoul ascended the steps, taking them two at a time. Panting, he pushed open the curtains impatiently and sat in the seat of Box Five.

He winced as Carlotta screeched and croaked, then brightened considerably when an ominous voice bellowed, "Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!" Maniacal laughter resounded around the opera house. Not long now, he thought. Not long at all…

Carlotta's eyes widened at her voice and she yelled, "Non posso piu…I cannot… I cannot go on…" Her fat lover ran up to try and console the ex-prima donna, and Raoul grinned maliciously as they ran off stage and the curtains closed.

He watched as the two buffoons who called themselves the managers of the Opera House improvised and announced that Christine would take the part of the Countess. Moments later, the ballet began. He bit back another smile, but leaned forward in his seat.

In a few seconds, one of the chorus girls would trip over the rope lying innocently in the middle of the floor backstage and…

As if on cue, the grotesque figure of Joseph Buquet fell from the rafters, hung there for a few milli-seconds, then dropped. Screams ricocheted off the walls as the ballet girls shrieked and scattered.

Gleefully Raoul rubbed his hands together, and stood. His time was here.

Sure enough, he heard the stupid girl's cries from behind the curtain. "Raoul. Raoul!"

He ran down the steps, appearing backstage. "Christine, come with me!" He forced himself to don a concerned look.

"No…to the roof," Christine argued, and Raoul suppressed a shrug. Whatever…it didn't matter where they went. "We'll be safe there," she said. I might, but will you? he wondered as he followed her up several winding staircases.

"Why have you brought us here?" he sang, hoping to subdue her.

"Don't take me back there!" she implored.

"We must return!" _Honestly, woman! They'll be looking all over for you!_

"He'll kill me!" she sang. _I wouldn't let him. I need you!_

"Be still now…" he tried.

"His eyes will find me there!" she continued, ignoring him.

"Christine, don't say that…" _Even though it's true, he thought._

"Those eyes that burn!"

"Don't even think it." _Don't think of anything, as a matter of fact. _

"And if he has to kill a thousand men -" she cried. _Then what? _

"Forget this waking nightmare…" he said.

"The Phantom of the Opera will kill…" _His last kill had been when he'd been twelve or so…_he thought.

"This phantom is a fable…Believe me…" _At least as you know him._

"…and kill again!" she sang. _His plan was working! _She thought that the Opera Ghost had killed that pathetic excuse for a man, Buquet. He held back his grin of triumph by singing.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera..."

"My God, who is this man..." they sang together.

"...who hunts to kill...?"

"...this mask of death...?" _Death, yea right!_

"I can't escape from him..." _Of course you can't you naïve little chit! He loves you!_

"Whose is this voice you hear..." And love?

"...I never will!" _You will if I have any say in it!_

"... with every breath...?"

"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here: inside your/my mind..." they sang together, she with a frightened look and he with a suppressed giggle of laughter.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera..." _Haven't we discussed this…?_

"Raoul, I've been there - to his world of unending night...To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness...darkness..." _She wouldn't have if he had given her more potion!_

"Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face, in that darkness...darkness..."

Then Raoul tuned out as Christine began to praise and swoon over the Monster of the Opera. He made a mental note to double her daily dosage. He couldn't have her LIKING him, all of a sudden! Like that night after the performance of Hannibal. He shivered at the thought. He'd thought that he'd lost the stupid wench, and with it the fortune that would soon be in his hands…

She finished her boring solo, and Raoul picked up from there, singing, "Christine...Christine..." because he had no idea what she'd went on about for the past few minutes.

Suddenly, a voice whispered, "Christine..." DAMN HIM! He was here!

"What was that?" Christine asked.

Hurriedly, Raoul began to sing what he had practiced before the mirror that morning. "No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears.

"I'm here, nothing can harm you - my words will warm and calm you." If his plot was to work, Christine would have to be in love with him sometime soon. He continued, singing comfortingly.


End file.
